Guardian
by Arabella Thorne
Summary: A very AU Tale about Gil Galad, his Herald Elrond...and a palace coup....lots of sword fighting!


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You know, this is my first attempt at a "warrior" Elrond fic. A little scene inspired by so many marvelous film sword fights!

The last of the soldiers who had infiltrated the palace this far to kill the king, fell beneath the gleaming sword of Lord Elrond, herald to King Gil Galad.

Bending to clean his blade on the dead elf's cloak, he turned slowly as he heard the rustle of a tapestry behind him.

Spinning in the dim light afforded by one branch of candles glowing on a table behind him, the elf lord stopped, sword at the ready.

Arnal the commander of this renegade troop of elves stood before him, eyes casting back the candlelight like a feral beast.

  
Elrond straightened, adjusting his armor. A winter wind howled around the edges of the outside door leading to the terrace beyond. The curtains waved slightly.

Elrond eyed the assassin warily. Here was the heart of the matter, the one the soldiers had hidden in their midst like a viper laying in wait under a pile of leaves.

The two elves stood still each assessing the other.

Arnal had commanded for over a _yen _the troops of outer Beleriand. He was distantly related to Gil Galad through his mother.

In the last few months, discontented with his lot in life, the would-be king had worked aggressively to take down Gil Galad and claim the throne for himself. Skirmishes and battles had taken place throughout Lindon.

And now what must be the final confrontation, at least to Elrond, here in the anteroom of the king's chambers.

An injured bedridden king, drugged to insensibility.

Elrond was not going to let the regicide through. "Come Arnal. Let us settle this once and for all."

"As you wish lap dog."

Arnal tossed his sword and caught it in one hand, his weapon the mirror image of Elrond's slightly curved rune-encrusted blade.

Both weapons gleamed wickedly in the candlelight. The light also picked out highlights on both elves woven armor.

Silence reigned. Only the slight hiss of the outside wind and snow was heard.

Suddenly, Arnal lunged quick as a snake at Elrond, blade outstretched.

Elrond leaped backwards, landing lightly on the table behind him as Arnal took the energy from his plunge and spun to face the elf lord.

Clang! Both swords met with sparks as Elrond leapt back off the table and bore own on his opponent, throwing his strength into making Arnal slip.

But with a grunt Arnal got out from under Elrond's blade and took a slash at the elf's side.

Again Elrond's quick footwork danced him out of the way and he swung his sword down, bearing Arnal's blade to the ground.

Arnal leaped back onto a nearby heavy wooden chair and balanced on the arms preparing to jump onto his assailant.

Elrond ran at the elf, going for the closest knee, but Arnal then leaped to the table.

With a fast turn, Elrond joined him, kicking aside a bowl of fruit and a goblet.

Advancing with a lunge at his opponent's midsection Arnal was thrown off by red wine hitting his face, the contents of a half-filled ewer, which Elrond had quickly tossed.

Sputtering, Arnal ran a hand across his face. He was not fast enough to avoid a deep cut from Elrond to his side, which slid between the flexible plates of his armor.

Thoroughly angered now, the elf charged the herald, forcing him off the end of the table.

Leaping Elrond landed on a nearby bench close to the door of Gil Galad's bed chamber.

Arnal came at him with a fierce cry and dove for Elrond's tall form. Kicking off the bench to avoid Arnal, his boot heel caught in the woven cloth of the bench cover. This threw his momentum off and as he adjusted his balance, Arnal's sword cut a gash in his left calf. It was not quite enough to hamstring him, but enough to slow him down.

The two elves engaged each other with a screech of blades, both of them more determined than ever to best their opponent.

Elrond flung back from his attack and leaped over a fallen chair wincing as his cut leg protested.

Arnal grimacing at the wound in his side neatly side-stepped the fallen chair and picking up the candelabra threw it straight at his opponent's head. Elrond knocked it aside with his blade and in moments, the room was darker than before.

Trying to lead the elf away from Gil Galad's bedchamber, Elrond threw fruit at Arnal, splattering him with crushed grapes.

Arnal roared and ran to engage Elrond again. The two swiftly crossed swords and for several minutes the two danced across the room, neither gaining ground on the other, their swords ringing.

What neither of them noticed was the fallen candles had lit the fringed edge of the carpet under the table.

The flames started to spread, but neither one wanted to take the time to stop the fire. Their shadows wavered grotesquely on the dressed stone behind them.

Finally Elrond yanked a curtain off the windowed door to the terrace. Flinging it over the flames he quickly stomped them out.

Arnal rushed Elrond who then went through the terrace doors leading Arnal far from the king and out into the swirling snow.

Arnal pounced on Elrond whose wounded leg made him falter and he slipped on the icy stones. Pressing down on the elf lord, Arnal grinned in triumph as he pinned him to the floor. "Ah, now I have you where I want you, cowering like a whipped cur."

Elrond grinned back up at him, saying nothing, his long black hair pulling out of his braids and tangling in his armor. Sweat poured down their faces.

Elrond pushed back against the blade of his assailant and was able to get to one knee.

With a fierce yell, he shoved against Arnal and with only a bit of stagger stood once again, the snow swirling across his face, blurring the features of his opponent.

Arnal consumed by frustration and anger at Elrond's regaining his footing came at him intending to skewer him through the heart. His feet slid some on the ice giving him more speed.

Elrond took his blade with both hands and with a mighty swing the blade clanged sharply against Arnal's onrushing weapon.

The blow was so ferocious it snapped Arnal's sword in half, throwing his weight off, and he went sliding backwards in the snow, blade upright.

Elrond slipped as he made to attack but gathered his strength and lunged at the prone fighter.

The two elves had not heard nor noticed the approach of the wounded king. Gil Galad stood in the terrace doorway assessing the fight. Though nursing a broken arm and several cracked ribs from being thrown from a half trained stallion, the bruised monarch held himself upright with the haft of his spear Aeglos.

The two fighters continued to seesaw across the terrace. Elrond, his wounded leg hit with a spasm, slipped once more in the slick ice.

Arnal came at him ready to plunge his sword in the herald's heart.

There was a "whoosh" and Aeglos buried itself in Arnal's side and he fell with a grunt, a spreading pool of blood staining the snow.

"My lord! You should not have done that! You are already badly injured." Elrond turned in shock.

"And leave my herald to be skewered like a skinned rabbit? I think not."

Elrond staggered over to Arnal who was still alive.

Carefully removing Gil Galad's renowned spear, he ripped a part of his tunic and bound the elf's side tightly.

Arnal, white-faced stared at him grimly and then whispered, "If not for your king..."

"Indeed." Elrond smiled back tightly.

Getting to his feet with a slight waver, the healer went to his liege lord.

Gil Galad grimaced slightly as he put a hand on Elrond's shoulder, his companion searching for signs of re-injury.

"Good foot work there Elrond." Frowning as the healer felt his ribs, he gasped tightly, "Stop fussing. I shall go back to rest in a moment. However, at the end of your fight..."

Elrond bowed his head slightly. "I am grateful as always for your quick spear arm."

"Lucky I did not break that."

The two elves turned to go back into the palace when behind them Arnal stirred.

Swiftly he pulled a dagger out of his boot and tossed it at Gil Galad's unprotected back.

Elrond heard the slight sound of the blade cutting through the frigid air and dove behind his king, grateful he was wearing armor.

He winced as the blade struck the armor on his back.

Gil Galad turned, as Elrond moved behind him and the knife hit. His face went still and he strode around his herald and hefted Aeglos in his hand. He stopped to stare down at the wounded elf. "I am here Arnal. Can you not strike as an honorable elf, face to face or must you settle for the coward's way, and dishonor?"

With a roar, Arnal tried to attack the elven king. But Gil Galad, though wounded himself, was faster, and Arnal found himself speared on the end of Aeglos, and this time the wound was mortal.

Elrond rushed to his king's side and watched as the light went out of Arnal's eyes and he slumped to the terrace floor.

For a few minutes the two elves standing looked at their fallen enemy as the silent snow fell, feathering them all with white flakes.

Finally, Elrond stirred and led Gil Galad through the mess of his anteroom and back to his bedchamber.

Taking Aeglos, he carefully wiped the blade with his tattered cloak and then leaned the weapon up against the wall near the headboard.

Gil Galad, sitting on the bed, sighed tiredly.

Elrond bent over him and carefully settled the king in his blankets and then turned to give him the goblet of sedative he'd left there earlier.

"My lord, I think this would be safe to take now. And you need the rest. I will see to the clean up of all this."

Gil Galad took the goblet and threw the draught back, grimacing at the flavor. Setting the goblet aside he smiled wanly at the healer. "Well, this insurrection is at an end. But at such a cost."

"A terrible price to pay for one elf's megalomania. Thank Eru we also have Garfinal his second in command." Elrond tucked the blankets around the now sleepy ruler. 

"I am glad you stood guard for me tonight Elrond." The elf yawned largely. "And healer, have someone see to your leg."

Elrond grinned and bowed, his cape sweeping the floor. "Of course sire. Sleep well."

Gil Galad smiled and in a few more minutes as Elrond watched, his eyelids fluttered and closed. The healer lifted his wrist and was satisfied by the even beat of his pulse. Gently laying the now limp hand on the coverlet, Elrond turned and seeing that all was settled in the bedchamber, he left, softly closing the door.

As he set the fallen branch of candles on the table and re-lit them, he went about tiredly setting the chairs right and clearing a path from the outer door to the bedchamber. Hopefully there were still some elves in the palace to take care of the king's needs.

But in case there were not, Elrond made himself comfortable once more outside the sleeping monarch's room. Even now, Gil Galad could not be left undefended. He quickly took off his boot with a hiss of pain and ripping his already ragged cape, he bound up his leg.

Carefully stretching out his wounded limb, he eased himself against the wall behind settling against the thick tapestry.

Awaiting the dawn of a new day.

And guarding the king.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~the end~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


End file.
